


you look a little vulpine yourself

by betony



Series: The World Inverted Yet Again [3]
Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Homecoming, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betony/pseuds/betony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because this was the truth of the matter: both Helen and Irene wanted to be Homecoming Queen, and both Helen and Irene would do anything to get what they wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you look a little vulpine yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etnoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/gifts).



> Title from _The Queen of Attolia_. Apologies for the fact that this is almost 100% silliness and utterly lacks even the rudimentary plot that other entries in this series have had. This was originally intended as a rarewomen treat for Sout, who wanted Eddis and Attolia interaction, and naturally I had to see how a Helen-and-Irene-centric story would play out in this 'verse.

The rumor spreads quickly, as rumors as wont to do; one day the senior class pays absolutely no attention to the headmaster’s daughter’s interactions with the new girl—even after eight months and all of a summer, Irene is still unquestionably the new girl—and the next, everyone cranes their necks to gawk at them as though expecting a catfight to break out with every accidental encounter. 

Later people say they ought to have seen it coming. Everyone remembers the end of last year, when Helen wrapped up an arduous race to become leader of senior class only to be overshadowed by Irene’s landslide win for the post of student body president. At the time, Helen had seemed perfectly cordial, and Irene, too; Helen had come up with her cousin to congratulate Irene after the assembly that announced the results, and had even offered her congratulations, though perhaps not in so effusive and demonstrative a manner as Gen. Now it was clear it was only Helen putting on a good face, as always. 

Because this was the truth of the matter: both Helen and Irene wanted to be Homecoming Queen, and both Helen and Irene would do anything to get what they wanted. 

* * *

The first skirmish takes place at a student council meeting, when the homecoming committee offers up their long-deliberated choice of theme: _A Night to Remember_ for the fifth year running. 

Irene sneers. “For all the wrong reasons, perhaps. Or do you not remember last year?” 

The room as a whole (or at least those four members of the council who still bother to show up to a meeting, most of whom were in various stages of slumber before Irene’s scorn made itself known) pauses to remember last year, which had involved, in no particular order: five spiked punch bowls, one drunken star quarterback who’d seized the mike to make a series of high embarrassing personal confessions, and ultimately, the revelation that _someone_ had made off with the Queen’s crown just moments before she was to be crowned. Most bets were on Gen somehow being involved, particularly after said star quarterback had managed to draw his ire by flirting with Irene, and last year’s Queen had been unkind to Helen, but, as always, there was no hard evidence. 

“Well, _I_ think a historical theme might be a nice change for a costume ball,” says Helen. “More elegant, somehow. We could do the Tudors, that’s be fancy enough, and you could be Bloody Mary reigning over us all, Irene.” 

Half the council turns to watch for the impeding explosion, but Irene is beautifully serene. “Or Midnight in the Mediterranean,” she murmurs. “I think you’d make a lovely Queen of Troy, Helen.” 

Helen’s smile goes frosty, and Agape, best friend and shadow, looks appalled on her friend’s behalf. “Oh, I think some people might know more about leading their boyfriends into disaster than Helen, don’t you?” 

Irene presses her lips together and says nothing. Agape appears quite pleased with herself; but then the council votes, and the Mediterranean theme wins by a landslide. 

In the records, it goes down as a draw. 

* * *

“Hey, runt! Is it true, about your cousin and your girlfriend going at it over this Homecoming Queen deal?” 

Gen looks over at Hilary from the bench beside the shoddiest locker allotted to the boys’ fencing team. On his first day on the team, Coach Teleus explained that it was tradition for the newest member to get it, but two more people have joined since, and Teleus bent over backwards to give them both roomy corner lockers. Privately, Gen suspects it’s just because word got out that the only reason he lived up to his father’s legacy and joined the fencing team was because Irene threatened to break up with him if he didn’t--it’s become quite clear to the school at large over the last few months that Irene does a lot of threatening in this relationship—and Coach took it personally. 

Gen snickers. “Trust me, you don’t know the half of it.” His expression sobers. “I’ve had better months, considering. I’ll be glad once this is all over.” 

Hilary looks like he wants to say something more, but he’s cut off by Cleon, that great ox, who leans over and drawls that he wouldn’t mind getting a look at Helen and Irene going at it, you know what he means? 

Gen smiles tightly and doesn’t say a word, but somehow two days later all Cleon’s equipment gets left out in the rain and absolutely ruined. 

Sad, really, how little unpredictable accidents like that always happened to the nicest people. 

* * *

The next student council meeting has rather unprecedented attendance. For once, enough officers are present to vote on matters of more substance than Spirit Week themes, and much to the delight of all, Irene and Helen carry on their sparring. 

”I might expect someone who insists on renting out the Ephrata, of all places, for the Homecoming Dance wouldn’t see reason,” snaps Irene. 

“It’s tradition,” Helen replies, indignant. 

“It’s also twice as expensive as it needs to be, which is why I propose we raise funds to offset ticket prices for couples—“ 

”Out of the goodness of our hearts?” 

”As long as they can pledge volunteer hours to benefit the school,” Irene corrects coolly. “The Headmaster’s been more or less pleading for help for months, as I’m _sure_ you know, Helen.” 

The room goes very quiet, very quickly. 

”Any remaining funds can go to benefit our extracurricular teams and clubs,” Irene says at once, pressing her advantage while she has it. “All in favor?” 

“Aye,” echoes the council, no one quite able to look away from Helen’s affronted expression. 

Irene smiles. 

* * *

Two weeks out from Homecoming, they’re selling tickets to student council meetings, and given the crowd that collects, passing out ballots to gauge the student body’s opinions. 

“You know,” Chloe, a newcomer to the meetings who is nonetheless enjoying herself, says thoughtfully, “it’s not so bad an idea, Helen’s idea to start a tutoring club. Better grades, volunteer hours, not bad on a CV…” 

Her friend Elia shrugs. Like Chloe, she’s part of the small but loyal coterie Irene has amassed quite despite herself. “Who gives a damn?” she barks, and goes back to cheering Irene on. 

Chloe says nothing more, but when the ballots are distributed, she marks her vote, and Elia’s, in favor. 

She’s not entirely sure, but for an instant, but when the motion passes, she thinks she sees something like approval in Irene’s eyes. 

* * *

On Homecoming night, after the school soundly thrashes the Medean Vipers to pull off a victory for the third year in the row, no one is expecting to hear the announcement that their Homecoming Queen is Hero Thomas, of all people. As far as most people know, Hero is simply the president of the drama club and the plainer, much less interesting sister of the notorious Beatrice Thomas, but—it appears—from today onwards, she is also the Homecoming Queen. No one can even think of who nominated Hero in the first place; but slowly, more and more people admit to voting for her, either due to disgust or fear of Helen and Irene's feud. 

Beatrice, last year’s Queen, places the tiara on her sister’s head with a glittering, brittle smile; Irene and Helen both clap, stone-faced. 

”Everyone must have been tired of the sniping,” is Irene’s only response. “It could have been a worse choice.” The general consensus of the student body is that this is as close to a graceful concession as she is likely to offer, and Irene steps off the field, head held high. 

Naturally Helen, sweet Helen, offers Hero her warmest congratulations. But that’s Helen, anyway; everyone knows Helen always puts on a good face. 

Rather anticlimactic, all in all. But then again, there is always next year. 

* * *

Helen finds Irene at the Homecoming Dance easily enough: out on the back balcony of the Ephrata, idly nibbling on an hors d’oeuvre. “Gen off getting you drinks?” 

“I should hope not,” says Irene. “The prospect of being thrown out when he’s discovered with the contraband he's picked up doesn’t appeal to me.” She shakes her head, so that her red-glass earrings catch the light. “No, your cousin is taking his turn dancing with the Homecoming Queen.” 

Helen looks back inside, where Gen is indeed exuberantly twirling Hero around the floor as she giggles. 

“I gather I’m meant to be horribly jealous when he returns," Irene adds dryly. 

Helen chuckles but sobers quickly. “I meant to thank you. I know you've hated the scrutiny, but I wanted Hero to get the better of her sister, just the once, and I couldn’t have shifted the vote in her favor without your help.” 

Irene raises an eyebrow. “Thank _me_? I wouldn’t have gotten half as much out of the council as I have if they all weren’t sitting on the edge of their seats waiting for us to tear each other’s throats out. For one thing, I'm fairly certain half of them wouldn't even have shown up to vote.” 

”You have to admit,” Helen looks decidedly impish, “it has been useful.” 

”And I intend to keep it useful still. I haven’t even begun to push through everything I mean to before I’m out of office, so I'm afraid you and I will be bitter rivals for some time longer, Helen." Irene's expression softens. "That said, I might be amenable to a truce. Just for tonight. For Gen’s sake, you know.” 

“Of course,” says Helen, dimpling; and they sit on the balcony for some time longer, understanding each other quite well.


End file.
